


It's Always Sunny in Republic City

by ReneeMontoya



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeMontoya/pseuds/ReneeMontoya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bolin is a failed actor. His brother, Mako, is an emotionally constipated narcissist. Korra is a reckless fitness nut who may or may not be in love with her best friend. Asami is a rich kid who lost almost everything when her dad was arrested. She may or may not be in love with her best friend too. They’re four broke assholes who run a bar and fuck shit up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shit’s starting to get real in my other fic so I wanted to do a fun stress relief fic that was 99% dialogue and dick jokes. 
> 
> Seeing as I’m only gonna be working on this when I’m stressed, updates will probably be pretty regular.

**5:58 PM**

**On a Friday**

**Republic City**

 

“Look at this shit,” Korra said. She wiggled the beer tap and a spurt of beer arced out over the bar.

“Holy shit, dude,” Bolin laughed. “Mako, bro, did you see that? Korra do it again!”

“Yeah,” Mako said, not looking up from his phone, “I really don’t care.”

“Do it again!” Bolin said eagerly.

Korra wiggled the tap again and Bolin tried to catch the jet of beer in his glass.

“How the fuck did this happen, dude?” Korra asked excitedly.

“I have no idea, but I love it!”

Korra leant over the bar and tried to catch the next spurt in her mouth. “This is definitely the best way to drink beer.”

Mako looked up and frowned. He tapped Bolin on the shoulder. “Oh, wait, bro. You did that last night. That was you.”

“What? Oh … yup. Yup, it was me. My bad.”

“What did you do?” Korra asked, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

“I was throwing rocks.”

“You were throwing rocks? Inside the bar. Why were you throwing rocks inside the bar, dude?”

“I … uh … I think I might have been a teeny bit drunk. And … there might have been a rat?”

“Yeah,” Mako said, “I got twenty-three texts from you last night about it. Look. ‘Bro. Thars rats in het bra’ and then ten exclamation marks. Then there’s a unicorn emoji for some reason. And then two minutes later I got another text saying ‘I might has brokened the bree tasps with a Rock’. I don’t know why you capitalised ‘Rock’.”

“The only rock with a capital ‘R’ that I can think of is Dwayne Johnson,” Korra said.

“And that homeless guy who lives behind the Burger King,” Bolin added.

“You threw Rock the homeless guy at a rat?” Korra gasped.

“No! At least … I don’t think so.”

“You really need to use autocorrect when you’re drunk texting, bro,” Mako said chidingly.

“I do,” Bolin protested. “It’s not my fault that my phone is an idiot. And it’s too small for my hands!”

Korra sent another stream of beer flying at Bolin and he fell off his stool.

He was picking himself up when the door to the back alley opened and Asami slunk in. She took her sunglasses off and undid her hair, letting it spill over her shoulders like liquid charcoal. Korra watched, mesmerised.

“Hey, dick farts,” Asami said, peeling off her jacket. “Just woke up. What’s going on?”

“The bar has rats. Bolin broke the beer tap. Korra’s getting everything sticky,” Mako said, still not looking up from his phone.

“Oh, cool.” Asami sat down on Bolin’s barstool opposite Korra and shot her a grin. She slid Bolin’s empty glass across the bar to Korra. “Fill me up with your sweet frothy goodness, my buxom tavern wench.”

“Oh my god!” Bolin and Mako groaned in unison.

“What?” Korra asked.

“How can you two not hear yourselves?”

“Hear ourselves? What are you talking about?”

“Fill me up?! Frothy goodness?!” Mako groaned. “You’re always saying shit like that and it’s so weird.”

“It is getting pretty weird, guys,” Bolin agreed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Asami said, raising her eyebrows in annoyance.

“Hey, Asami,” Korra said, grinning crookedly. “Watch this.” She wiggled the tap and sent yet another thin spurt of beer flying over the bar.

“Holy shit!” Asami laughed. “Squirt in my mouth!”

“Oh my god!” Bolin and Mako both shouted.

Korra yanked on the beer tap so hard that something broke and a jet of beer shot out, drenching Asami.

“Korra! Stop! You’re making me wet!”

“Oh … my … god,” Bolin and Mako sighed.

“Shit, sorry,” Korra grabbed a dish cloth and managed to stem the flood of beer pouring out over the bar. Asami began drying herself off with a cloth that Mako threw at her and Korra leapt over the bar to help. “I am so sorry, dude. I am so sorry!”

“It’s okay! Buy the first round tonight at that new karaoke place and I’ll forgive you,” Asami laughed as Korra dabbed at her neck and chest with the cloth.

“Waitwaitwaitwait. First of all … What the fuck?! You two are going out singing and drinking and you didn’t invite me?” Bolin said, looking genuinely hurt. “And secondly … You two are going _out_ to drink? Why not just drink here?”

Korra and Asami looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“This place is a shit hole!”

“Yeah, we don’t want to spend our Friday nights here! There are rats … and you two.” Asami laughed, peeling off her sodden blouse. Korra looked away awkwardly as the blood rose to her cheeks.

Korra laughed to hide her mild embarrassment. “Yeah. W- we actually want to have a good time.” She glanced at Asami. “Tonight is going to be fantastic!”

“You know what would make it even more fantastic?”

“What, dude?”

“If I could come up with some way to get free drinks without getting hit on,” Asami said thoughtfully.

 

**“Asami Becomes a Pimp”**

 

“Well, of course the plan won’t work if you’re wearing grubby jean shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt which, by the way, I’m still not convinced you didn’t steal from a drunk frat-bro,” Asami said as she unlocked the door to her apartment.

“What’s wrong with my jean shorts?” Korra grumbled. “They show off my killer thighs.”

Asami raised an eyebrow and sucked her lip thoughtfully as her gaze roamed over Korra’s muscular body. “That’s true. But you could show off your legs in a sexy dress too.”

Korra groaned loudly. “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“Yes! I just want you to look pretty, baby,” Asami said, taking Korra’s hand and guiding her into the apartment.

Asami’s place was small. It was a good deal bigger than the room that Korra rented from Tenzin, but it was still small. The wallpaper was a hideous pale green and there were large and ever-growing patches of damp on the walls. Asami had moved in about a year ago and there were still stacks of cardboard boxes stuffed full of clothes in nearly every corner. The shelves and cupboards and every inch of every other available surface was full of art and gadgets and useless junk that Asami and the gang had managed to ‘rescue’ from her dad’s house before everything had been seized by the authorities.

“I’m still not sure about this plan. I feel kinda like you’re …”

“Pimping you out?” Asami asked as she fished a couple of beers out of the fridge

“Yes, exactly,” Korra said, flopping down on Asami’s threadbare sofa and reaching for the remote that was hidden under a pile of laundry. “And the fact you knew what I was going to say doesn’t really reassure me that you’re not!”

“Won’t you do it for me, baby?” Asami said, doing her best puppy-dog eyes as she sat down opposite her on the coffee table.

“Stop calling me baby! That sounds almost exactly like something a pimp would say,” Korra said as she flicked through the channels.

“Look,” Asami said, chuckling. “It’s a great plan. I get people to buy me drinks and in return I introduce them to you. They pay for your drinks. You talk to them for a bit. Then you get rid of them. Tell them you’re gay or you’re looking for something serious or you want to wait until you’re married or something like that. Throw up on them if you have to. It’s a fool-proof plan.”

Korra gnawed her thumbnail. “I dunno. You know what guys can be like. I highly doubt telling them I’m a lesbian would actually discourage many of them.”

“True. You could just beat them up, I suppose,” Asami shrugged, passing Korra a bottle.

Korra took a sip. “Okay, I’m liking this plan more now. Free drinks. Beating the shit out of people. Getting hammered and singing our lungs out.”

“Sounds like a good plan, right?”

“Such a good plan!”

“So good.”

“I don’t want to wear a dress though.”

“ _Oh come on!_ ”

Korra shook her head emphatically. “I do not like wearing dresses.”

“At least try some on,” Asami pleaded. "You can keep your combat boots on. Everything looks good with combat boots. Go on. Please try on some dresses!"

Korra thought for a moment while Asami did the puppy-dog eyes again.

“Okay! Fine!” Korra groaned, throwing her head back resignedly. “I’ll try some dresses on. But I’m not making any promises.”

Asami jumped up and dragged Korra to her feet. “I have the perfect dress!”

“What, now? I thought … oh, o- okay. Now.”

Korra was dragged into Asami’s walk-in wardrobe which was, in actual fact, her bedroom. She sat Korra down on the bed and began rummaging through the piles of clothes that covered everything like snow after a blizzard.

“Where is it? Where is it?!” Asami muttered to herself.

“You can’t find it?” Korra asked, getting to her feet and edging towards the doorway. “That’s too bad. We tried. Never mind.”

“Ah-hah! Found it!” Asami exclaimed.

“Dammit.”

“What do you think?” Asami asked, holding up a shimmering backless blue dress that looked to Korra as though it would only barely cover the essentials.

Korra sighed. “Okay, fine. Chuck it here. I’ll put it on in the bathroom.”

“Dude, it’s not a big deal. Put it on here.”

“Here?”

“Yeah, I mean, why not? We’re buddies.”

“Yeah!” Korra made a strange noise with her mouth. “We’re buddies. We’re pals.”

“Just a couple of gal pals.”

“Whoa. Well, we’re … we’re not _gal pals_.”

“Oh, yeah. No. But I mean … there’s nothing weird about getting changed in front of each other.”

“Of course not. We’re both adults. And …” Korra fiddled with the label of her beer bottle, tearing it with her thumbnail. She chugged the last of her beer and held out her hand for the dress.

Asami passed it to her and she began to take her t-shirt off. She hesitated a little and felt herself blushing, though she wasn’t sure why.

“You … you want me to turn around?”

“No, no that’s okay.” Korra waved her hand dismissively. “There’s no reason for us to be awkward around each other, right?”

“No reason at all!” Asami’s cheeks were turning pink but Korra assumed it was just the heat. It was rather hot in there, Korra decided.

Gritting her teeth, Korra whipped her t-shirt off as quickly as possible. Like pulling teeth, she thought. She realised too late that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Asami gulped loudly. “Oh!” she gasped. “You … you’re not wearing a … that’s cool. That’s fine. We’re buddies. It’s fine.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I was eating burritos in my underwear this morning and I got hot sauce on my bra and I didn’t have any clean ones so … yeah.”

“It’s good I’m not gay or anything, because if I were, I’d be all over that,” Asami laughed, waving vaguely at Korra’s body.

“Really?”

Asami’s laughter got louder and her face got redder and redder. “Yeah! Yeah, I’d wrap my legs around your head. All you can eat buffet. And I’d bend you over right here and … and …” Asami’s awkwardly forced laughter turned into an almost pained intake of breath and a silence hovered over them. “I’m gonna get another beer.”

“Awesome.”

“You want another beer?”

“Yeah, I’ll have another beer.”

“I’ll go get you another beer.” And with that, Asami vanished.

When Korra had finally managed to squeeze herself into the dress, she pulled on her boots and stood in the doorway. Asami had her back to her, messing around with the settings on the TV, another beer in her hand. Korra was half-tempted to lean against the doorframe, stick her chest out, and throw her head back.

Instead she just folded her tattooed arms and coughed. Asami turned around and her mouth fell open. Korra started laughing as she felt her cheeks turning red.

“How do I look?”

Asami inhaled sharply. Her mouth opened and closed and opened again but no sound came out.

“What do you think?” Korra asked, running her fingers embarrassedly through her hair.

Asami gulped down her beer noisily, hiccupped, and took a deep breath.

“Yup,” she managed to say, nodding emphatically.

“It’s a bit tight round here,” Korra said, gesturing vaguely at her chest. “And should I be wearing a bra? Everyone’s gonna be able to see my nipples.”

“No, no, that’s good. You’ve got great boobs. We’ve gotta show them off.” Asami gave Korra’s breasts a critical look, her finger to her chin. “We’ll have more johns than we’ll know what to do with.”

“Can you not call them ‘johns’?”

“Why?”

“Makes me sound like a hooker.”

“What’s wrong with that? Stop demonizing sex workers, Korra.”

Korra rolled her eyes and rearranged the dress a little, smoothing out the wrinkles.

“Can’t believe I’m letting you pimp me out like this,” Korra grumbled.

“Now …” Asami said thoughtfully, scanning the heaps of clothes everywhere. “What should I wear?”

“Oh! Oh! A … a top hat and … and …” Korra paused. “I had something for this. Damn it. What do pimps wear?”

Asami shrugged.

“I could probably pull off a top hat.” She set her empty beer bottle down on the coffee table. “I’ll pick something after we’re done getting you ready.”

“What … what else have we gotta do?” Asami tiptoed over to her purse, carefully, as if stalking a frightened deer. “Asami?” Korra took a cautious step back as Asami pulled out a stick of lipstick, opened it, twisted it, and pointed it at Korra. “Oh no you don’t!”

Asami smiled devilishly as Korra started backing away.

“Come here, baby. We gotta make you look pretty! You wanna look pretty for me, don’t you?” Asami laughed as she chased Korra into the bathroom.

The night didn’t get off to a good start. It was drizzling and although the street lights looked beautiful shimmering in the puddles, it took them longer to get into the club than they’d anticipated.

“I feel ridiculous,” Korra hissed as they waited in line.

“You look great,” Asami said, rubbing Korra’s shoulders.

“It’s cold.” Korra had Asami’s jacket draped over her shoulders but she was still shivering. “My nipples are like fricking antennas right now. Feel them.”

“Oh my god! They _are_!”

Bolin groaned. “You two need to get a room!”

“What?”

“We’re not gay.”

“Then stop touching each other’s nipples!”

Korra frowned at him. She had been looking forward to spending the night with just Asami. But Bolin had invited himself along at the last minute. Korra had been all for telling him to go have sexual relations with himself but Asami had decided that they’d need the extra muscle. “In case the clients cause trouble,” she had said. Korra could have strangled her.

They waited in silence until Bolin yelped in horror as a passing car threw up a wave of spray over him. “That does it!” he yelled. “I’m gonna go show the bouncer my tits.”

Asami chuckled as Bolin stormed off. Korra huddled herself closer to her, attempting to share her warmth. Asami smiled down at her sympathetically and wrapped her arms around her.

“Do I have to spend the whole night with random guys?” Korra asked.

“Of course not! Babe, it’ll be like thirty minutes, forty tops, and then we’ll be doing body shots off an unconscious Bolin and singing ‘Atomic’ together for the rest of the night.”

“I don’t really like that song,” Korra lied, smirking.

“Korra, sweetheart, talk shit about Blondie one more time and I swear to God, I will throw you into the traffic.”

Korra laughed and elbowed Asami in the ribs.

“Hey!” Bolin called from the door to the club. “Come on!”

Korra and Asami hurried past the smiling bouncer and breathed a sigh of relief at finally being in the warm.

“I can’t believe you actually managed to get us in!” Asami laughed. “Your body’s not that great.”

Bolin smiled wryly, showing her the pen scrawled on the back of his hand. “Oh yeah? Then how come I got his number too?”

“Ooooh!” Korra laughed, giving him a playful shove. “You gonna give him a call?”

“Probably,” Bolin said.

“You are? I thought you were straight.”

Bolin shrugged. “I think I’m attracted to people who could beat me up.”

“That explains why you were so hot for my cousin.”

Once they were inside, it wasn’t long before Asami found Korra her first ‘date’. Korra was sitting at the bar, where Asami had sat her, watching Bolin twerking on the dance floor.

“Korra!” Asami said, far too loudly, dragging a man over. She had a cocktail in her hand and Korra guessed she was on her third or fourth by now. This loser she’d found must be pretty desperate. Korra forced a smile. “This is Tahno!” Asami shouted. “He plays the saxophone!”

“Trumpet.”

“Whatever!” Asami drained her drink in one go and patted him on the back. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted!” She tried to wink, but ended up just blinking slowly. Korra couldn’t help laughing.

Tahno ran his fingers through his oily hair in what Korra supposed was meant to be a seductive motion.

“So …” Korra said awkwardly, “trumpets, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, sniffing aloofly. “I guess you could say I have a talented mouth.” He winked at her and leant closer, licking his lips.

Korra laughed through gritted teeth and made a mental note to herself to kill Asami.

Dripping with sweat and breathless from the dance floor, Bolin sat down next to Asami at the bar. She was scowling ferociously and gnawing her straw between her teeth.

“Looks like your plan worked,” Bolin said, nodding towards Korra and Tahno on the stage. They were on their fourth song together and were currently butchering something by The Ronettes.

Asami huffed angrily.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing!”

Bolin raised his eyebrows and pried the empty glass out of Asami’s hands. Asami carried on chewing on her straw, her lips curled in distaste.

“Why are you so pissed? You’ve practically drained the bar dry and this loser has paid for everything.”

“I …” Asami spat the mutilated straw out of her mouth. “I thought this would be fun, y’know. Get free drinks, take advantage of some pathetic creeps, and get wasted. But … it’s not! I feel awful and I don’t understand why.”

“Maybe you feel bad for pimping Korra out to strangers?”

“No … that’s not it.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s a pretty shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, whatever! Mr Saint bloody Peter.”

“What? That makes no sense.”

“Fuck off.”

“How much have you drunk.”

“Not enough!” Asami said waving at the bar tender.

“Why are you so angry?”

Asami pushed her hair out of her face and glanced at Korra on the stage. She took a deep breath, trying to focus through the alcohol-induced haze. “I … I don’t like seeing her with … with anyone else.”

“Oh, shit!”

“I think …”

“Yes?”

“I think … I …”

“Yes?!”

“I think … I might have … _feelings_ for Korra.” Asami said ‘feelings’ in much the same way as you might say ‘syphilis’ or ‘Adam Sandler’.

“Oh! Shit!” Bolin was practically vibrating. “I fucking called it!”

“Don’t tell anyone!” Asami said, grabbing him by the shirt, her eyes wide with horror. Bolin was grinning like a child at Christmas. “I swear, if you breathe a word of this to her … or Sharkbrows … I swear I will tear your testicles off and feed them to you!”

“Okay, okay! My lips are sealed.” Asami let go of him and tried to get the bar tender’s attention again. “Even if you don’t want to tell her, you should at least go have fun with her,” Bolin said.

“With who?”

“With Korra! Lord, how dunk are you, dude?”

“Very little bit.”

“Go tell this creep to fuck off!” Bolin said, pushing Asami off her stool. “Go win your woman back!”

“I will do that!” Asami said, swaying slightly and clasping his cheeks tenderly. “I will do that. You’re a great friend, Bo.” She chuckled to herself. “Bo Peep. Little Bo Peep. Have you lost your sheep, little Bo Peep?”

“No more drinks for you tonight, okay?” Bolin said, turning her around and shoving her in the direction of the stage.

Asami meandered her way through the crowd and staggered onto the stage. Tahno had his arm around Korra’s waist and a red fury descended over Asami.

“Hey, Tahno, you douche fuck!” she yelled.

He was about to say something when her fist struck him in the face, sending him sprawling across the stage. Asami kicked him and picked up his microphone.

Korra stared at her open-mouthed. Asami smiled sweetly and obliviously began to sing the words to a completely different song from the one on the screen.

“ _Fingers on lips_ ,” Asami sang, horribly off-key and reaching a hand out to Korra. “ _Allow his hands to your hips!”_

“ _You know you shouldn’t do thiiiiiiis!_ ” they sang in unison, hand in hand, while Bolin cheered from the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proof reading is for weenies
> 
> EDIT: I'm now a weenie

**11:07 AM**

**On a Monday**

**Republic City**

 

“Dude, what happened to the fucking Wi-Fi?!”

“A fuse went!” Asami shouted up the stairs from the basement. “The power’s out!”

“Well hurry up and fix it!” Korra yelled from the gents’ toilets. She had been banished from the ladies’ after The Dump of ’08 and banned from the non-binaries’ after The Vomit of ’09. “I’m kinda in the middle of something here!”

Asami glanced at Bolin who was using his phone as a torch for her. “What do you think she’s doing in there? She’s been in there for like half an hour.”

“Live-tweeting her dump? I dunno.”

“Should you be poking around in there, dude?” Mako asked, looking over Asami’s shoulder.

“Yes! Now stop crowding me!” Asami shooed them away and tapped her bottom lip thoughtfully with her screwdriver.

“You’re gonna get electrocuted,” Mako warned.

“I am not.”

“You are. And as manager of the bar, it’s my responsibility to …”

“You’re not the manager.”

“I’m the most mature and …”

Bolin and Asami both made dismissive noises like farts. Mako bristled and went to sulk in the corner of the basement.

“He has a point though,” Bolin said.

“Don’t encourage him.”

“Are you sure you should be using a screwdriver?” Bolin asked, getting closer and closer into Asami’s personal space and closer and closer to getting a screwdriver shoved in his ear.

“Yes!” Asami groaned, elbowed him aside and was about to begin dissecting the ancient fuse box when Mako tapped her on the shoulder. Asami sighed. “What?!”

“You’re gonna burn down the bar.”

“I am not going to burn down the bar!”

 

**“Asami Burns** **Down** **the Bar”**

 

“See?” Asami said as she wiped her hands on her jeans. She wasn’t even trying to make it seem like she wasn’t gloating. “I told you I wasn’t going to burn the bar down.”

“Whatever,” Mako shrugged. He wasn’t even trying to make it seem like he wasn’t disappointed. “Kinda wish you had. This place needs a makeover.”

“Where did you learn to do that, dude?” Bolin asked, passing Asami her well-deserved beer.

“Do what?” Asami asked as she flipped the light switch on and off to make sure the power was back and took a gulp of her beer. It was a little warm which was surprising. The power hadn’t been out for more than ten minutes.

“All that talking to machines shit.”

Asami shrugged. “I’ve always been able to. Or as long as I can remember anyway.”

“Do you think you could fix a fridge?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Awesome. Can you fix the fridge please?”

“Why? Is it broken?”

“No,” Mako said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “He wants you to fix it because it’s working perfectly.”

Asami ignored him. “What happened to it?”

“Well, _someone_ , not mentioning Mako’s boyfriend by name …”

“Hey!”

“… pissed in it last night.”

“Oh my god!” Asami yelled, spitting out her beer. “You could have told me that before I started drinking this!”

“He didn’t piss in your beer.”

“Oh my god! I need to wash my mouth out.”

“And he’s not my boyfriend!” Mako grumbled.

Asami rushed over to the sink, grabbed a bottle of vodka, and gargled it like mouthwash.

“Come on, bro” Bolin said, smiling wickedly. “You expect me to believe you and _His Royal Highness_ aren’t fucking. Asami doesn’t believe it either. Do you?”

Asami made an unintelligible noise into the sink.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But you _are_ fucking?”

Mako opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, gave his brother the finger, then changed his mind again and opened his mouth. Whatever he said was drowned out by Korra’s yell from the toilets.

“What’s taking so long?!”

Asami spat her fourth mouthful of Russian Listerine out. “It’s fixed, sweetie!”

“Then why isn’t it working?!”

“Are we just gonna ignore the fact Asami called Korra ‘sweetie’ or … okay, we’re ignoring it. Whatever. Not the weirdest thing you’ve called each other,” Mako mumbled under his breath.

Asami rolled her eyes, trudged into the office, and gave the router a kick.

“Better?!”

“Thank you!”

“What in the world is she doing in there?” Asami wondered out loud.

“So …” Asami gasped in surprise and spun around. Bolin was slouched in the doorway, smiling in that overtly innocent way that really looks anything but innocent.

“’So’ what?”

“When are you going to tell her?”

“Tell who what?”

“When are you going to tell Korra that you wanna fuck her?”

“I never said that! I said I ha-”

“’Have feelings for her’. I know.” Bolin thrust out his pelvis and made a grunting sound. “ _Feeeelings._ ”

“I was drunk! And I didn’t mean it like that. And … and … and if you say anything to anyone, I’ll … I’ll tell Eska that you had a butt-double in the second Nut Tuk movie.”

Bolin turned a shade paler. “You … you wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Mako!” Asami broke out into a nervous sweat as a pair of distinctive eyebrows appeared around the door. “What … what’s up, dude? We … we were just talking about …”

“The economy,” Bolin said, helpfully.

“The economy! Exactly. It’s … wow … it’s just … so …” Asami made a vague hand gesture. “I mean. Stocks, am I right?! And all that debt. Fucking debt, man.” She broke out into forced, nervous laughter and Mako frowned at her with that look he had. Asami hated that look.

“Dude. I know you like Korra,” Mako said, smiling. “You don’t have to hide it.”

Asami breathed a sigh of relief, then, when she realised what he’d said, she choked on her sigh and made a strange hiccupping noise. “You … what?”

“I heard you just now. The door was open and neither of you were whispering and the office is right next to the bar.”

“Oh … yeah.”

“Plus it’s so obvious.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s obvious’? It’s not obvious! It took me like three years to realise it. It’s not fucking obvious!”

Mako rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. Okay, okay. Umm … Remember what you two did last week when we got the cocktail ingredients delivered?”

“They were cucumbers, Mako! What else were we supposed to do with them?!”

“Literally anything else,” Bolin sighed, rubbing his eyes as if he thought he could rub the mental image out of his head.

“You two are impossible!” Asami sighed as she pushed past them.

“Where are you going?”

“I need a drink. If you two are gonna try making me come out or profess my undying love for Korra then I’m gonna need something very very very strong.”

“Come out?” Bolin asked in surprise. “So … you are gay? Or bi? Or whatever?”

Asami groaned and took a gulp of her mouthwash as she leant against the bar.

Two hours later and Asami was well and truly hammered. She was slouched across the table as Bolin and Mako bickered.

“No, no, no! Flowers!”

“Bro, no. Korra would not like flowers.”

“She so would. You know nothing about girls!”

“Oh, and you would? You’re the one fucking Wu.”

“Woah. Dude. Not cool.”

“So you _are_ fucking him?!”

Asami growled and covered her ears. She had run out of vodka an hour ago and she was no closer to anything resembling an epiphany about her orientation or what to do about her mysterious feelings for her best friend.

“Look,” Mako said sternly as he opened yet another warm beer. “I’m the only one here who has actually slept with Korra. I have insider knowledge.”

“Yeah,” Bolin said sceptically. “But that was, what? Three years ago? Four?”

Mako shushed him. “That’s not important. I’m just saying … I know her _buttons_. If you know what I mean.”

“Bro, if you knew her _‘buttons’_ then you would have slept with her more than once.”

“I’ve actually been thinking about that,” Mako said. “I think she’s gay.”

Asami sat up, suddenly interested. “Huh?!”

“Yeah, I mean it makes sense, right?” Mako looked back and forth at Bolin and Asami’s blank faces. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I mean, I’m pretty much a sex god …”

“Highly debatable.”

“Utter bullshit.”

“I am, so shut up both of you. I am amazing. Look at this body. But she didn’t want second helpings. Why? Because she’s gay. She’s not hungry for banana spilt. She wants some of Asami’s …” Mako’s eyebrows knitted together.

“You can’t think of a dessert that you can use as a metaphor for female genitalia, can you?” Asami chuckled.

“Give me a second.”

“Banana split is a terrible double entendre.”

“I said _‘give me a second!’_ ”

Asami sighed. “It doesn’t mean she’s gay. It just means you’re shit in bed.”

Mako scowled at her.

“I wonder what Wu thinks about you being a sex god,” Bolin said, grinning.

“Shut up!”

“I’m texting him.”

“Do NOT text him! How do you even have his number?!”

“He gave it to me!”

“Give me your phone, you … you flaccid penis! You turkey shit!”

Asami drank Mako’s lukewarm beer as the two brothers grappled on the floor.

Their fight ended prematurely as a loud whimper reverberated through the bar.

“What was that?” Bolin asked from under Mako.

“Is the bar haunted?” Mako asked.

“Korra?” Asami called out.

“How can she recognize Korra’s very sexual sounding whimpers?” Bolin whispered. Mako shrugged with his eyebrows. “I mean I understand why you wouldn’t. I doubt you heard anything except bored yawning while you two w- OW! That’s my ear, you prick!”

Asami knocked on the door to the gents’. “Korra?” There was another breathless, plaintive noise like a wounded puppy. It was definitely coming from the toilets. “Korra! You’ve been in there for over two hours! I’m coming in!”

Asami pushed the door open and strode into the toilets, Bolin and Mako following close behind.

The cubicle door at the far end of the row slammed shut and Asami rushed over. “Korra! Are you okay?!”

She pushed the door open and gasped.

“Get out!” Korra yelled. She tried and failed to pull her shorts back up making her laptop topple off her lap onto the floor in the process.

“Oh my god!” Mako gasped, horrified, and covered Bolin’s eyes. “What are you doing?!”

“What does it look like?! Get out!”

“Are … are you watching … is that … that’s not porn. What is that?” Mako laughed.

“Get out!”

“Is this a knitting tutorial video?” Asami laughed, picking the laptop up off the floor.

“What’s happening?” Bolin asked, confused and a little scared. Mako pressed his hand tighter over his brother’s eyes.

“Korra’s making Jesus cry,” Mako said, stifling his laughter.

“Get out!” Korra said, still trying to pull her shorts up which wasn’t easy when she was trying to cover her bright red face and her privates, all at the same time.

“Why? We’ve all seen you naked,” Mako laughed. “Well, I assume Asami’s seen you naked.” Asami made a vague nodding motion, sticking out her bottom lip.

“I haven’t,” Bolin said dejectedly from behind Mako’s hand.

“Is this what you’ve been doing all morning?” Asami asked in disbelief. “Masturbating to YouTube knitting tutorials?”

Korra looked as though she were about to explode and slammed the door shut in their faces. “Yes,” she said quietly from behind the door. “Can you shut up and go away now?”

“No … no, I think this needs explaining,” Asami giggled.

Korra groaned.

“Are you turned on by grandmas?” Mako asked.

“No!”

“I am gonna kink-shame the fuck out of you, you know that right?”

“There’s nothing to kink-shame! I like the sound the needles make and the yarn is soft and … and the needles are sharp and … okay that sounds bad. And I like the people’s voices. It’s not all old ladies. It’s a lot of, like, girls in their twenties and stuff. They have nice voices and hands and … and I have a knitting kink okay!”

“That’s not a real kink,” Mako said, turning purple as he tried to hide his laughter.

“Fuck off! And give me my laptop back!”

“Wait,” Bolin said, trying to pry Mako’s hand away. “Does this mean you’re gay?”

“What?!”

Asami looked up from Korra’s search history, suddenly very interested.

“You like girls, right? You said you like the girls’ hands and … and their voices, right?”

A long pause.

“… I didn’t say that.”

“You did,” Mako said.

“You can’t prove anything!”

Asami shut the laptop and slid it under the cubicle door. “Let’s leave her alone now, guys.”

“When you’re done, you’re gonna get the kink-shaming of your life, young lady!” Mako said scoldingly.

“Fucking fight me!” Korra yelled, a slightly sticky-looking middle finger appearing over the top of the cubicle.

Back at the bar, and a fresh image stored away in her spank-bank, Asami sipped a warm beer and smiled to herself. Asami couldn’t help feeling a little bit like an asshole though. But that was mostly because she didn’t actually feel particularly asshole-ish which was how she supposed she ought to have felt after having made fun of Korra, not to mention what she was probably going to be thinking about tonight in bed. And maybe in the shower tomorrow morning as well.

Asami felt like a complete asshole. Mako was texting as though his life depended on it. Bolin looked concerned.

“What’s wrong, Bo?”

“Does … does this mean that the time the four of us had tea with my Grandma Yin, and … and Korra kept nipping to the toilet because she had too much green tea … was she … y’know?”

Asami nodded. “Almost definitely.”

Bolin shuddered and stared at his untouched beer, a horrified look on his face.

“Do _you_ have any kinks?” Mako asked.

Asami thought for a moment. “Ice,” she said.

Mako looked at her in confusion. “Ice? That’s … that’s not a kink. You can’t just say ‘ice’. What about ice? Like … having sex on ice? Being … I dunno … fucked in a fridge.”

“Just ice.”

“Just ice? ‘Just ice’ isn’t a kink. That’s … not how kinks work. I … I don’t understand. What, you’re turned on by the concept of ice? Or … I’m so confused. Wait … do you mean ‘Justice’? Are you turned on by justice?”

Asami grinned crookedly. “Nope. Ice. Just ice.” Mako squinted at her. “What about you?”

Mako took a deep breath.

The twenty minutes that followed changed Asami forever. She was certain that she would be talking to a therapist about this for years to come. Bolin looked even more traumatised by the end.

“How … is half of that even legal?” Bolin gasped.

“It’s all legal in Switzerland.”

“But are they _legal_ here?”

Mako shrugged.

“I … I … I think I need to have a lie down,” Bolin stammered.

Bolin shuffled into the office.

“You made that up, right?” Asami asked. “Y’know, I always thought you were a bit of a prude. And gay. A gay prude. Wow. How do you convince anyone to do that?”

Mako smiled and took a sip from his beer.

“You could have told me, you know,” he said. “About Korra.”

“I know. But like you said, you two have history. Pretty unexciting history. But history nonetheless. And I don’t really know what I’m feeling and … I dunno … I guess Bo is just easier to talk to about this stuff. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Asami, please. I don’t have feelings.”

The door to the gents’ toilets opened a crack, then all the way, and Korra slunk out, her laptop under her arm.

“Well, well, well,” Mako said, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “Are you gonna be training Naga to be a guide dog now?”

“Huh?”

“Because … y’know, you’ve been masturbating so much.” Korra looked blankly at him. “You know how they say you’ll go blind? If you masturbate too much? So Naga would be … never mind. Forget it.”

Korra sat down at the bar wearily.

“You want something to drink?” Asami asked. “We’ve got a load of warm beer. Mako’s boyfriend pissed in the fridge and broke it.”

“He’s not … whatever.”

“Warm beer sounds great,” Korra said.

Asami smiled at her as she drank her beer. Korra smiled back.

“Have you noticed how you two have like no boundaries at all?”

“What do you mean?”

Mako sighed. It was like trying to explain Donnie Darko to chimpanzees. Or, well, anyone for that matter. “You touch each other inappropriately, you say weird shit, you do unspeakable things with vegetables …”

“What else were we supposed to do with cucumbers?” Korra asked, perplexed.

“And you’ve just seen Korra masturbating and there’s absolutely no awkwardness at all. You’re practically eye-fucking!”

“We’d better use protection then,” Asami said, utterly deadpan as she put her sunglasses on.

Korra snorted and beer almost shot out of her nose.

“My point is,” Mako shouted over their laughter, “that this is hardly a healthy relationship.”

“You’re not a healthy relationship,” Korra said childishly and Asami high-fived her.

“Hey,” Asami said. “I’ve gotta nip off for a while. Got some shopping I need to do.”

“Did those credit cards arrive yet?” Korra asked.

“Uh, yeah, gotta use ‘em before they realise what’s going on.”

“Wait, are you committing credit card fraud?” Mako gasped.

Asami pressed her finger to his lips and shushed him. “It’s not fraud if we don’t talk about it.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it w-”

“Shhhhh.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

Asami blew Korra a kiss, waved to her, and slipped into the office.

“So,” Mako said when she was gone, leaning on the bar and raising an eyebrow, “knitting, huh?”

Asami pulled Bolin to his feet out of the disgusting, cigarette-burned leather chair.

“Come on, I need you to help me carry bags and protect me from overzealous security guards.”

“Huh? Where are we going?”

“Lingerie shopping.”

“Oooooh.”

“And then to the craft store.”

“ _Oooooh_.”

Leaning on the hood of her car while she waited for Bolin to get his coat, Asami texted Mako.

“Who’re you texting?” Bolin asked, as he sorted out the fingers of his gloves.

“Mako. Asking him to keep Korra busy while we’re out. Right. Let’s go. Wait.”

Bolin froze, hand held out to the passenger-side door. “What?”

“Why are you dressed like that? You don’t need gloves and a woolly hat. It’s not that cold. You look like a bank robber.”

“Exactly. The last time we went shopping together, you stole all that expensive makeup and we got stopped by the police and now we’re not allowed in that department store again. And they had really nice towels there, Asami. I loved that store.”

“Okay. I take your point.”

“I was thinking ahead.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s … probably a good idea.” Asami climbed into her red vintage Citroen and turned her key in the ignition. There was a low rumbling sound like bricks in a washing machine and a cloud of smoke belched out of the exhaust, making Bolin jump.

“Are you sure this thing is safe?” he asked, reluctant to get in.

“Yes, of course it is! Hurry up!” She grabbed him by the hand and yanked him into the car. Her phone pinged. “Oh, Mako texted back.”

“What’d he say?” Bolin said, searching for the seatbelt.

“’Don’t worry dot dot dot I’ll keep her busy all right. Winky face.’ What does that mean? Weirdo. What … dude, what are you doing?”

“Where’s the seatbelt?”

“Seatbelts are for hippies.” Asami slammed her foot down on the accelerator and the car lurched into the traffic.

“You promised you’d put seatbelts in!” Bolin yelped, gripping the seat and his eyes bulging in terror.

His eyes were still bulging half an hour later but that might have had a little something to do with what Asami was wearing as she looked critically at herself in the dressing room’s full length mirror.

“What do you think of this one?” she asked. No answer. “Dude? Oh, come on! You’re practically drooling.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Bolin mumbled, wiping his chin embarrassedly before he could stop himself.

Asami sighed and allowed herself a little flicker of a smile. “What do you think, then?”

“Yes,” was all Bolin managed to say.

“Do you think Korra will like it? Not that I’m getting this for her benefit or anything, it’s just …”

She could see Bolin’s raised eyebrow in the mirror. “Of course you’re not,” he said sarcastically.

Asami threw a garter at him and whipped the curtain closed. “You’ve just lost perv privileges,” she snapped.

“Dude,” Bolin whispered sheepishly, “why do the sales assistants keep giving us dirty looks? I thought you said you were a regular.”

“I am a regular. I just … I don’t actually buy anything here.”

“What?”

Asami sighed and decided to try on a different basque. “Every Saturday since my dad was arrested and everything was seized, I’ve come in here and tried on the expensive lingerie. It makes me feel sexy and confident and … well, rich, I guess.”

“That’s not too bad I suppose.”

“I know right! There’s no need for them to be so pissy. And I only jerked off in those super expensive silk panties once! They blew the whole thing waaay out of proportion.”

“Oh. Well, yeah I can kinda see why they hate you. You’re awful.”

Asami shrugged. “Eh. They could have sold them for twice their recommended retail price after I was done. There’s a huge market for that.”

“For what? Used panties?”

“Yup.”

“Woah! What? Really?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child, Bo.” Asami swept the curtain open and Bolin closed his eyes. Asami sighed. “You can open your eyes.”

“Oh. _Oh!_ ”

“Good ‘ _Oh’_?”

Bolin’s brow furrowed, deep in thought. “Interesting. So … going for blue?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm.”

“What?”

“Not red?”

“No. Why?”

“Isn’t there a certain someone – a certain short, muscly, kinda musky-smelling someone – whose favourite colour is blue?”

Asami shrugged and clenched her jaw. “Okay fine!” she said, giving in. “The way I see it, I just need to seduce her, fuck her, and then these goddamned ridiculous …” Asami shuddered. “… _feelings_ for her will go away.”

Bolin looked confused. “I _guess_ that’s sound logic.”

“Umm, excuse me, ma’am,” a small, shy voice said from the entrance to the dressing rooms. A young, dark haired girl popped her head in and smiled awkwardly. “Umm, management just wanted to. Umm. Are you going to pay for this? It’s just that after last time with the …” Her caramel cheeks turned pink.

Asami folded her arms and scowled. “Can I pay? Can. I. Pay?! CAN I PAY?!” She thrust her hand into her bag and pulled out a handful of credit cards. “How dare you!” She threw one of the cards like a ninja star at the sales assistant. “Does it look like I can pay? Huh? Does it? You want another? There you go!” Another card whirled through the air and bounced off the wall above the girl’s head. Another three or five followed it. “How dare you!” Asami shrieked when she was all out of plastic rectangles of death. “I demand to speak to your supervisor!”

When they were alone again, Asami, a look of panic on her face, whipped off her stockings and garters and stuffed them up Bolin’s jumper.

“What … what are you doing?”

“Quick! Grab as much as you can and run!”

“What? But you have all …”

“They’re all fakes!” Asami hissed, pushing a fistful of lace, silk, and god-knew what else down his trousers.

“Oh, god.”

When the manager arrived, visibly sweating with fear, Bolin was stuffed like a turkey. Asami, now almost fully dressed, seemed to have acquired a thick southern accent as she shouted at the terrified little man. Bolin was able to slip out midway through her tantrum without being noticed.

Asami followed him a minute or two later, kicking a row of mannequins over and flipping off everyone in the store.

Outside, she took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her hair, and leapt onto the escalator.

“Well that was exhilarating. That Beifong girl is lovely, isn’t she?” She rubbed her hands together and grinned. “Right. On to the craft shop!”

Bolin opened his mouth to say something in reply but just shook his head in disbelief.

While Bolin and Asami were committing felonies and traumatising retail workers, Mako had been closing up the bar early and was taking a rather drunk Korra home.

“Hey, dude, I … I think I gotta …” Korra turned green and ran over to a dustbin. Mako turned away and tried to block out the sounds of Korra vomiting.

“Are you done?” he asked impatiently.

Korra wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and grinned crookedly. “Yup.”

Mako squeezed the bridge of his nose and wondered if what he was going to do was really worth it. Yes, he decided. It most certainly was.

He wasn’t so sure that Korra would make it back to his flat before passing out though. He had to make his move now.

“Oh my god! Dude! Is that a puppy?!” he gasped, pointing down an alleyway.

Maybe he was drunker than he thought, but he could have sworn that Korra had vanished in a bolt of blue lightning and reappeared halfway down the alley.

“Where?!” she shouted.

Mako ran down the alley to her. His sides were hurting and he felt like being sick by the time he caught up to her. “It … it must h- have … run away,” he wheezed, gripping his knees.

Korra pouted sulkily and sat down on a dumpster.

Mako straightened himself up, took a deep breath, and turned on The Look. No one could resist The Look. Ladies melted after just a glimpse of The Look. With this kind of power, he thought, it was a good thing he was such an upstanding and moral person.

“With great power, comes great responsibility,” he said quietly to himself as he waited for Korra to look at him. It was a while before he realised she’d fallen asleep. “Korra. Korra!”

She jerked awake and, startled, looked at Mako in surprise. “What … why are you squinting like that? Do I have something on my … oh, yup, I do. How’d you get there, ketchup?”

“I’m not squinting. It’s The Look. No one can resist The Look.”

“You look like you’re pooping,” Korra said, bursting into drunken giggles. Mako sighed. He’d have to resort to Plan Two. “Whoa. Why’d you take your shirt off?”

Mako pouted at her, and tensed his abdomen.

Korra looked confusedly down at him.

Mako intensified The Look.

Korra raised her eyebrows and leant slowly backwards.

Mako was tensing so hard he could barely breathe.

“Ugh, fuck it,” he groaned. “You wanna bone?”

“Oh, thank god. I thought you were gonna murder me,” Korra sighed.

Mako climbed up next to her on the dumpster and touched her cheek gently, turning her face to his. She opened her mouth slightly and closed her eyes. Mako wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep again. Her breath was horrible. He gritted his teeth, took a breath, imagined how priceless the look on Asami’s stupid face would be, and kissed Korra. Lightly at first and then deeper.

She kissed back and guided one of his hands up underneath her sleeveless t-shirt. Mako couldn’t help but wonder whether this was the same shirt she’d been wearing all week. It certainly smelt like it. He swallowed the sickly feeling rising into his mouth and let his hand glide higher.

Carefully, he slipped his hand into his pocket, took out his phone and smiled wickedly into the camera without breaking the kiss.

Korra moaned as the shutter clicked and wound her fingers into his hair.

“Yes,” Korra murmured. “I want you.” Mako gulped. This was going further than he’d intended. Alarms were sounding in his head and sirens wailed in his ears and he tried to worm his way out of Korra’s huge arms. ABORT! he screamed to himself. “I want you! I need you,” Korra moaned as she pulled him closer. “Asami.”

“Asami?”

“Huh?”

“You … you said …”

“I ‘n’t say nothin’,” she said, her speech slurring.

“Yeah, you did. You said …” Korra slumped forwards into his arms and started snoring. “… Asami,” he sighed.

The sun was setting when Bolin got a text from Korra. He was sitting in the bathtub listening to the radio and experimenting with different styles of bubble beards. His phone vibrated on the toilet seat and he groaned.

He grumbled to himself as he clambered out of the bath and unlocked his phone.

“Dude!” he shouted when he’d read the message.

“What?” Mako yelled from the living room.

“Dude, Korra just texted me! She just got a text from Asami. Someone left a huge box of puppies in the bar!”

“Holy shit, bro! We need to go th- OH MY GOD! Put a towel on or something! We talked about this!”

“Sorry!” The bathroom door slammed shut and Bolin grabbed a towel. “Wait, hang on a sec. She sent another text. She just woke up a minute ago in a pile of trash in some alley and it might be a while before she can pet there. Pet there? Oh, autocorrect. It might be a while before she can _get_ there. We have to make sure the puppies don’t leave before she can get there.”

“It seems a bit weird, don’t you think,” Mako said thoughtfully as they approached the bar. They’d left in such a hurry that he’d forgotten his coat. He tugged his scarf tighter around his neck and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how often have you ever actually seen puppies left in boxes? Outside of cartoons, I mean. And why would anyone leave them at a bar? That’s a terrible place for puppies.”

“They’re far too young to drink.”

“Exactly. Huh, weird. All the lights are off. Is that … Marvin Gaye playing?” Mako pushed the door of the bar open and stuck his head in. “Why are there candles on the bar. Hello?” he whispered, his voice breaking a little though definitely not because he was frightened.

“Hello,” a husky, perhaps slightly sultry voice said back.

Bolin pushed him through the door and when their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they stood transfixed in horror.

Someone was sitting on the bar, legs crossed, surrounded by candles and rose petals. A sharp _click clacking_ of metal on metal cut through the seductive jazz music.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Asami whispered from on top of the bar. His eyes still weren’t quite used to the dim candlelight, but something told Bolin that she wasn’t wearing anything except expensive blue lingerie.

“Asami?” Bolin and Mako gasped.

“Oh my god!” Asami screamed, dropping her knitting needles and rolling off the bar, scattering balls of yarn and candles everywhere. There was a yelp of equal parts surprise, outrage, and pain and the sound of shattering bottles.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” all three of them yelled in unison.

There was a click and the CD player behind the bar stopped part way through ‘Sexual Healing’.

“Why the fuck are you two here?” Asami hissed from behind the bar.

“We got a text from Korra!” Bolin whimpered, holding up his phone as though he were warding off vampires with a crucifix. “Puppies!”

“Oh my god!” Asami groaned.

“You mean … there are no puppies?”

“No! That was a lie to get Korra here so I could …”

“Fuck her?” Mako asked, snidely.

There was a pause. “Yes.”

“Can you smell burning?” Bolin asked.

“Hey, Asami!” Mako said, ignoring Bolin and unlocking his phone.

Asami’s head appeared from behind the bar. “What?”

“Look.” He held up his phone.

Asami’s head vanished behind the bar. She soon reappeared, wrapped in a kimono, and crawled out from behind the bar. She got to her feet and stomped angrily over to him.

“Seriously, guys,” Bolin said. “I think I’m having a stroke or something.”

“Give me that,” Asami said, ignoring Bolin and snatching Mako’s phone out of his hand. She glared at him then looked at the screen. Her whole body stiffened and she raised her head slowly to look at him. There was a sound like lightning as her palm struck his cheek. “You slut!” she growled. Mako rubbed his cheek and grinned at her. “How could you do this to me?”

“Because you told Bolin you liked her and you didn’t tell me!” Mako said, his voice quivering with pent-up emotion.

“Oh my god,” Asami groaned, rolling her eyes.

“No, Asami! You hurt my feelings!”

“But you said you d-”

“I lied!”

“Okay! I’m sorry. I should have told you, and as a matter of fact …” Asami slapped him again.

“Guys!” Bolin yelled.

“What?!” they shouted, both of their hands raised, ready to strike.

Bolin pointed at the flames licking at the bar and getting rapidly bigger and bigger.

“Oh, shit,” Asami hissed.

Everyone, apart from Marvin Gaye and Asami’s brand new kimono managed to escape the blaze.

The three of them stood across the street, watching the flames as the fire engines arrived.

Asami shivered and regretted most if not all of her recent life decisions that had led to this moment.

“This is coming out of your pay,” Mako said under his breath, just loud enough for Asami to hear. She looked down at her stockinged feet. “Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “We needed a makeover anyway. And if it makes you feel any better, she said your name.”

Asami sniffed. “Huh?”

“When we were making out. She said ‘Asami’.”

Asami grinned and rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re still a huge, gaping asshole.”

“I know.”

There was a scream and a kicking and screaming Korra was dragged away from the inferno by a very big firefighter.

“I have to save the puppies!” she screamed. “I have to save the puppies!”

“Korra!” Bolin shouted. “Dude! There are no puppies!”

Korra stopped squirming and let the firefighter out of the headlock she had her in. “Oh.” She ran over to them and bundled Asami up into a tight hug. She looked down at her singed underwear and gasped. “Asami! All your clothes got burnt off! I have to protect your dignity! Mako!” she growled. “Take your shirt off.”

Mako sighed and gave his shirt to Korra who gave it to Asami.

“What happened?” she asked, slipping an arm around Asami’s waist.

“Dodgy fuse box,” Asami said hurriedly. Korra didn’t notice Mako and Bolin exchanging glances.

They stood in silence as the fire began to die down and the spray from the hoses drifted over them like sea spray on the wind. Asami wasn’t sure if it was the heat from the fire making her cheeks hot or whether Korra’s arm around her had something more to do with it.

“Cherry pie!” Mako said suddenly making her jump.

“Huh?”

“A dessert-themed euphemism for lady parts.”

“That’s awful,” Asami groaned.

“You’re awful.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend makes offensively strong coffee and I can barely see now, let alone write. Fucking hell.

**06:17 AM**

**On a Thursday**

**Republic City**

“You’re gonna break your neck!” Asami yelled.

“Oh my god, dude! Do you think she’ll go full Exorcist?” Bolin said excitedly, fumbling for his phone. “Korra! Don’t do it until I’m ready! I’m gonna film your head do a full three-sixty!”

“That’d be fucking awesome!” Korra shouted from the top of the scaffolding. Repairs on the bar had started a few days ago and Korra had finally reached that perfect point between sober enough to climb the scaffolding without throwing up and drunk enough to think she was invincible.

“Korra!” Asami yelled. “It’s like six in the morning! I haven’t been to bed yet! I’m going home and leaving you twitching on the sidewalk!”

“Okay!” Bolin called up. “I’m ready! Battery’s on seven percent though so make it quick!”

Asami slapped Bolin’s phone out of his hand and scowled at him as it shattered on the scorched pavement.

“What?” he hissed. He waved up at the Winnie the Pooh bicycle helmet several sizes too small for Korra. “She’s got a helmet.”

“You’re gonna break your legs, you idiot!” Asami shouted. Mako wandered past, sunglasses on and nursing a hangover older than the expensive and probably stolen bottle of wine he was sipping. “Mako, tell her she’s an idiot!”

“You’re an idiot,” he mumbled around a cigarette. He dragged a wheelbarrow over and sat down in it, waiting for Korra to jump.

“This is unbelievably dangerous!” Asami shouted.

“No! You know what’s dangerous?!” Korra yelled down, adjusting the strap of the children’s bicycle helmet under her chin. “Cancer! When was the last time you checked your tits, Asami?”

“Ages ago! Forget this Matt Murdoch shit and check them for me!”

“That is super tempting,” Korra said quietly, throwing an empty beer can down to the tarmac and watching it fall.

“I’ll check ‘em,” Bolin said before a vicious slap to the back of his head brought tears to his eyes. 

“Fucking jump already,” Mako groaned, flicking the stub of his cigarette away.

“I’m indestructible!” Korra yelled as she tore off her t-shirt, broke into a run, and threw herself headfirst off the scaffolding. Korra dropped like a ton of bricks after a night out. As she fell, she spun, and her legs hit the edge of the rubbish-filled skip with a bone-shattering crunch and she landed on the tarmac with a wet thud.

Stunned, Asami and Bolin stood with open mouths.

Mako sighed and lit another cigarette. “Is she dead?”

 

**“Korra Dies.”**

“I’m going to be late for work,” Mako muttered into a paper cup of hospital coffee that smelt strongly of schnapps.

“You’re late every day, you prolapsed anus,” Asami hissed. “So sit your narrow arse down and be there for your friend.”

“My friend?”

“Korra!”

“Oh. ‘Friend’ is a strong word.”

Asami slapped the coffee out of his hand and it spattered all over the greasy lino floor.

“Dickhead,” Mako muttered.

Asami continued pacing up and down the corridor.

Bolin strode in and threw Asami her phone.

“Tried to call Kya but only got Lin. I think they’re banging. Anyway, I let her know what happened. She said to say that Korra’s an idiot and that we don’t need to get to work until noon.”

Mako groaned loudly. “I thought we’d at least get the day off.”

“How is she?” Bolin asked, almost slipping in the spilt coffee.

“I don’t know,” Asami growled.

Mako got up stiffly and wandered off.

“Where’s he going?” Bolin asked.

“Probably going to steal some drugs.”

“Or kill someone in the coma ward.”

“Typical Mako.”

Asami leant against the wall and melted.

“You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?” Bolin said, looking down at Asami curled up on the floor.

“Yes.”

Bolin snorted. “Gay.”

A nurse walked past and, seeing Asami, came back.

“Is she okay?” she asked Bolin.

“Oh, uh, yeah. No. Her girlfriend died.”

 “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly and retreated back down the corridor.

“Fuck you, Bolin,” Asami said. 

“What?! She did die!”

“For like two minutes.”

“Hey,” he snapped defensively, “sorry for trying to set you up with the sexy nurse.”

“How on earth were you setting me up with her by saying Korra was my dead girlfriend?”

“Are you kidding?! Dead lesbians get all the girls wet.”

“You are a terrible person.”

Asami sat down heavily in the chair next to Bolin and leant her head on his shoulder.

“Oh god, you stink!” Bolin said, shoving Asami away.

“I didn’t get home last night! And I sweat when I’m stressed.”

“Oi!” Bolin yelled at a doctor walking past. “When can we go in and see our friend?”

The doctor scowled at him, checked her clipboard and peered in through the window in the door.

“You’ve been allowed to go in for almost an hour,” she said and before she knew what had happened, Asami had barged past her and was at Korra’s bedside.

“Hey, dipshit,” Asami whispered, clutching Korra’s plaster-casted hand. She sounded like she’d just started smoking, or perhaps it was just emotion burning her throat.

Korra looked like she was going to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Asami asked, touching her lips to Korra’s fingertips.

“You mean apart from the four broken limbs, bruised ribs and internal bleeding?” Bolin sneered.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” Korra whispered through her bruised lips.

“No, no, you’re not. The EMT’s brought you back!” Asami said.

“You sure?” Korra grinned and poked Asami’s nose. “Because I can see an angel.”

Asami made a strange strangled noise and turned red as Bolin rolled his eyes so hard that they rolled across the floor and tripped up the doctor on her way out.

Korra tried to lean closer to Asami which wasn’t easy when half her body was encased in plaster and she was hooked up to so many machines that she looked like Alex Murphy.

“Asami,” Korra whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Can you check if I’m wearing any underwear?”

Asami sucked air in through her teeth as though she’d been gut-punched as Bolin collapsed into a chair, groaning loudly.

“Korra, I … I’m not going to look at your …”

“Asami, please, I think someone stole my underwear and …”

“I’m not going to look at your vagina, Korra.”

“Asami. Look at me.”

“I’m not …”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

“… going to check your crotch.”

“Lift up the gown.”

“I’m not looking at your junk.”

“I need you to do this for me!”

“You’re very drugged up!”

“Exactly! I’m a morphine water balloon. So I need you to tell me!”

“Korra …”

“Do I have any underwear on?!”

“I’m not looking under your fucking gown!” Asami yelled.

She looked helplessly at Bolin for help. He shrugged.

“Just do it,” he said. “We all know this is a dream come true for you.”

“Fuck you,” Asami snapped at Bolin. “And fuck you too, you shit,” she said to Korra as she lifted the gown.

Korra nodded serenely as Asami opened her eyes slowly, then breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’ve got underwear on,” Asami said. “I don’t think they’re yours though. They’re too clean. And lacking in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

Korra looked almost disappointed.

Asami sat on the side of the bed and ran her fingers through Korra’s messy hair.

“Do you want me to check if someone stole your underwear?” Korra asked, looking sleepily up at Asami.

“Right!” Bolin announced, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna give you two carpet munchers some space.”

“Dickhead,” Asami growled.

Bolin grinned warmly as he left. “Take care, Korra.”

“You haven’t slept, have you?” Korra asked.

“No,” Asami said. “And it’s all your fault, you perverted masochist.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“You should try some of this Morpheus.”

“What?”

Korra waggled one of the tubes in her arm. “It’s good shit!”

“Do you mean morphine?”

Korra tried to shrug. “Same thing. Same root word, probably. Just … pull the tubey thing out and have a sip.”

“I’ll pass.” Asami stroked one of Korra’s fingers.

“You sure?”

“I’ve got some ket in my purse.”

“Were you worried about me?” Korra asked.

“Of course I was!” Asami said, flicking Korra’s ear. “You died!”

Korra smiled, though whether it was from Asami’s concern or the painkillers, no one could tell.

“Did you bring me a balloon?” Korra asked.

Asami groaned and shook her head.

“Budge up,” she said and lay down next to Korra on the hospital bed, her arm around Korra’s waist. “Don’t you ever dare do that again.”

“Do what again? The flip or die? Because both were fucking awesome!”

“If you do it again I’ll kill you,” Asami growled into Korra’s shoulder.

“Dude …”

“Yeah, Korra?”

“Whose undies am I wearing?”

In Kya’s café, long after noon, Bolin methodically ripped a paper cup into small squares.

“Dude, this is utter bullshit,” he groaned.

“Huh?”

“I said: this is utter bullshit! When Asami burnt the bar down I thought we’d get a holiday. But _nooo_ , we have to help out at our stupid boss’ stupid sister’s stupid hipster café. It’s all her fault we’re stuck here and just because she wants to bang Korra, she doesn’t have to help us! We can’t even drink on the job. I’ve been sober for almost two days now! It’s awful! I woke up this morning and thought I’d caught a zombie pathogen plague thing.”

Mako slowly, painfully, not completely unlike a zombie plague victim, lifted his head off the table.

“Huh?”

“I said: this … never mind. You look worse than I feel.”

Mako let his head sink back down onto the table. “How’d the audition go?”

“It was terrible! The guy made me strip even though it was for an animated film. But I guess maybe he …”

Mako yawned loudly, obscenely.

“Hey! Shitheads!” Kya shouted, snapping her fingers and pointing at the tills. “Back to work!”

Mako and Bolin crawled back to the counter, ignoring the handful of customers as they hid behind the fridge.

“I suppose maybe they’re gonna do motion capture.”

“I highly doubt it, man,” Mako murmured.

“Do you think Korra’s okay?” Bolin asked.

“Of course she is,” Mako said, dipping his finger into a bag of brown sugar. “She’s always throwing herself off things. Don’t you remember when she jumped off the school bus into the river?”

“That was pretty awesome.”

“At least she has Asami to look after her. Means I don’t need to.”

“I’m kinda worried that if they spend too much time together then Korra’s gonna break her legs all over again.”

“What? Why?”

“Y’know.”

Mako looked at Bolin weirdly. “You mean, like, from fucking?”

“Fucking! Yeah,” Bolin said. “Leave those two alone for more than a day and they’ll scissor their legs off.”

Mako nodded. “Horrifying thought.”

“Horrifying. Speaking of being deeply closeted and sexually frustrated …”

“Fuck off.”

“How’s Wu?”

“Fuck off.”

“No, seriously,” Bolin said, trying desperately not to laugh. “How is he?”

“Bo, I’m not kidding, I will stab you if you keep talking about my …”

“Your what?”

“What?”

“You trailed off.”

“No. No, I don’t think I did.”

“Mako, you were about to say: My boyfriend.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Why can’t I talk about your boyfriend?”

“Have you ever heard of Chekhov’s gun?”

“What?”

“If you draw attention to something, something will happen with it.”

“What?”

“I … I’m not sure.”

“Mako,” Bolin said, chewing a thumbnail.

“Yeah?”

“Were you really going to stab me again?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“You’re standing in front of the cutlery jar.”

“Oh.” Bolin frowned. “Dude, you can’t keep stabbing your problems away.”

“Umm,” a nervous, bearded customer coughed behind Bolin.

Bolin whined as he turned around and was still making noises like a kicked puppy while he put his apron back on.

“What?!” he snapped.

He scratched his beard, startled. “A … a … uh … soy macchiato. Grande. With a shot of espresso and a …”

Bolin narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips.

“Would … would you like a … beer?”

“No. No, I … uh … I don’t think you even sell beer. I want a soy macchiato with …”

“What kind of beer is that?”

“It … it’s not … I just want a soy mac-”

“What?”

“A. Soy. M-”

“I’m sorry. A what?”

Mako shoved him out of the way, stabbed some buttons on the cash register, grabbed a pen, scrawled something on a paper cup which he promptly tossed over his shoulder and said, “Ten Yuans, you dirty hipster.”

With shaking hands, the man pulled a crumpled note out of his pocket, declined his receipt, and went to look at the shelves filled to bursting with jars and bottles of weird, extraordinarily-overpriced, organic shit that Kya had filled her café with.

“Shit,” Bolin laughed. “He didn’t even question it!”

“I know,” Mako whispered. “Ten Yuans for one coffee! They’re only like three-something! Less to take away.”

“Y’know, maybe …” Bolin made a vague hand gesture and lowered his voice. “… maybe we should, I dunno, take advantage of this?”

“I was thinking exactly the same thing. We should make the most of being stuck in this shitty café with these douchebag customers. We could put the money towards renovating the bar!”

“I wanna buy Opal a fancy dress!” Bolin said excitedly.

“Umm. Okay. Yeeaaah. Yeah, I mean, sure. Or! And this is just off the top of head. We could put the money towards renovating the bar!”

“Hell yeah! But also a dress for Opal!”

“Fine,” Mako sighed, “whatever. A dress isn’t gonna make that restraining order …”

“ _Multiple_ restraining orders!”

“… multiple restraining orders go away!” Mako rolled his eyes. “I mean … my god.”

“Let’s scam the hipsters!”

“Hell yeah!”

“ _Hell_ yeah! … I could really do with a drink though.”

“Oh, yeah. Same.”

“Excuse me!” the woman next in line said, frowning behind her lensless glasses and without stopping her clearly very important phone call. “Can I order now? Now would be great. Thanks.”

Bolin winked at Mako, tightened his apron, visualised Opal in an expensive shimmering slinky green dress, and grabbed a paper cup from the stack.

“Of course! What can I get you?”

Two days later, Asami had smuggled Korra out of the hospital in a laundry truck, lost the laundry truck, found the laundry truck, and brought Korra home.

They had spent the last day stagnating on the stained sofa in Korra’s disgusting apartment.

“What about this one?” Asami asked.

“Ummm … protein shake.”

“Oh. This one?” Asami asked, pointing to another stain on the threadbare upholstery.

“That one?” Korra chewed her lip. “I’m not sure. Guacamole, maybe.”

“It is rather green.”

“Mmm.”

In silence, they stared at the small, flickering TV. They had run out of things to drink almost as soon as they had walked in the door. They had run out of things to say soon afterwards. They had spent the last hour or two talking about stains and watching cartoons.

Korra fiddled with something on her wheelchair.

“Did … did you find out where those undies came from?” Asami asked.

“No. No idea.”

“So … do you just … not wear underwear normally or …”

“I … well, sometimes I don’t have time to do laundry so …”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever done laundry in your life.”

Korra laughed to herself.

“Korra, dude, you shouldn’t be laughing about that.”

“Eh. Probably not.”

Korra scratched her cast futilely.

“You itchy?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, dude, I’m not surprised. There’s an unbelievable amount of dog hair everywhere in here.”

“Well, Naga’s getting old.”

“Mmm.”

“Fuck, could you scratch under here?” Korra said, sticking a finger under the cast around her leg.

“I … yeah, okay,” Asami said, heart racing. She sat on the edge of the sofa and tentatively reached down between Korra’s legs.

“Thank you.”

“Is … is that the spot?”

“A bit faster.”

“Here?”

“That’s it!” Korra moaned, eyes rolling into her skull. “Fuck! Yes!  Right there! Deeper! Deeper!”

“My wrist is getting stiff.”

“Don’t stop!” Korra groaned loudly.

Asami realised that her face was only inches from Korra’s. Breathing heavily, Korra turned and looked at her, lips parted. “I …”

A singsong voice rang through the small room. “What are you doing?”

Korra and Asami froze.

“What are you doing?” Ikki asked again, finger up her nose.

“Fuck off!” Korra yelled, making the little girl cry.

Half an hour later, bursting out of the staff bathroom for the third time in twenty minutes, Bolin whooped and thrust his fists into the air.

“Being sober is great!” he laughed.

“Dude, you’ve had like ten coffees in the last forty minutes. Sober, you most certainly are not,” Mako said, wondering whether his customer had said his name was Wing or Ling or Wink. He glanced at the finely-honed body that was just begging to burst out of his far-too-tight green tank top.

‘I am an artist,’ he thought to himself as he drew a stick figure with big biceps and his phone number onto the cup. ‘An artist appreciating the sculpted human form.’ Five digits in, he realised he couldn’t read his own writing and turned the numbers into five more stick figures. Much to his horror, he ended up drawing what looked for all the world like a stick figure orgy.

 “Well, I feel fantastic!” Bolin said, almost vibrating and snatching the cup out of Mako’s hand. He unleashed a jet of boiling water into it and steam belched into the air.

Mako took the money from Wing or Ling or Wink and slipped the extra six Yuans into his pocket.

“Thankyouhaveaniceday!” he said, forcing what he hoped was more a flirty smile than a hung-over grimace. Wing or Ling or Wink smiled and winked, making Mako weak at the knees.

The ‘pre-brunch rush’ – which was apparently a thing that not only existed but which people actually said out loud with a straight face – had drawn to a halt.

Korra pulled herself up out of her wheelchair onto the counter and ran her hands through her hair, groaning.

“Look at that guy’s moustache!” Bolin gasped, trying and failing to be subtle and making a start on yet another coffee.

“I miss the bar,” Korra muttered, grinding the heels of her palms into her eyes. “We could drink whenever we wanted. Insult the customers. Opening a beer was so much easier than making weird vegan coffees. Hygiene didn’t matter. We could open up when we wanted. Close up whenever. Get pissed. And …” And sometimes if they were drunk enough and if the bar was empty (and often when it wasn’t) she and Asami would play strip poker in the office. She was too tired to wonder why she was missing that specifically.

“Hygiene didn’t matter?!” Bolin gasped. “No one told me that! I’ve been washing my hands and cleaning the bar for years like a fool!”

“This sucks,” Asami groaned, squeezing behind the counter and tipping the contents of her tray into the sink. Korra reached out a hand to her, and Asami leant back against the counter between Korra’s legs. Korra massaged her tired shoulders and rested her chin on her head. “I want to scam these hipster dickheads too. But cleaning tables is shit! None of these pretentious fuckers tip well.”

“I didn’t think people generally tipped the busboys? Or, sorry, busgirls.” Bolin said, shovelling coffee beans into a paper cup.

“ _They_ don’t know that,” Asami said, grinning. “I had to give one couple a ten minute long lecture about the realities of working minimum wage and about how it’s the responsibility of the middle class to make up for the shit the one-percent have done.”

“But … you’re an heiress,” Bolin pointed out. “You are one of the one-percent!”

“ _Was_ an heiress. And they don’t know that either.”

“Why are you even here?” Mako snapped.

“Ikki walked in on us fingerbanging.”

“Well …” Asami scowled at Korra. “It looked like we were fingerbanging. We weren’t.”

Bolin and Mako both pulled faces.

“I was scratching Korra’s … Oh, shit, yes!” Asami sighed. “Right there, Korra! Just like that!”

“Oh my god,” Bolin groaned.

“What?” Korra and Asami said in unison.

“You two! Just fucking do it already!”

“What! Why?” Korra asked. Asami made a noise half way between a laugh and a fart.

“There’s no such thing as a platonic massage,” Bolin said knowingly, an eyebrow raised as he dropped a fistful of sugar cubes (organic fair-trade hand-cubed sugar cubes, of course) into his cup of raw coffee beans.

“Oh, really?” Korra said without taking her hands from Asami’s shoulders. “So you’d never give your gran a massage?”

“Oh, come on!” Bolin groaned, pouring half a carton of soy into his cup. “Let’s not have the Mia Wallace’s Feet Debate again.”

Korra chuckled and felt Asami’s shoulders slowly becoming less and less tense beneath her fingers. She smelt wonderful. Korra wondered whether the sexy tank top guy who’d been eye-fucking Mako smelt as good as Asami did.

“You smell really nice,” Korra said.

“Thanks,” Asami laughed as Bolin rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell into his coffee. “You too. Well, no, you smell like shit.”

“I did die a couple of days ago!”

“How much did you make telling everyone to tip the busgirl?” Bolin asked curiously, uncomfortably.

“About a tenner I think. But we get to keep all of that.”

“Not bad,” Bolin said into his cup. “You want some?” he asked, munching on coffee beans and sugar cubes.

“No, thanks.” Asami said, laughing.

“What is soy?” Bolin asked perplexed, looking into his cup. “Whatever it is, it’s really fucking good.”

“It’s plant milk,” Korra said, wrapping her arms around Asami’s neck. A slight shiver ran down her spine as Asami reached a hand up and rested her fingertips on Korra’s bruised forearm.

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope. Plant milk.”

“But … plants don’t have nipples.”

“Have you ever checked?” Asami laughed.

“I’m pretty sure Poison Ivy has nipples,” Korra added.

“Wait, you mean the stuff that gives you a rash or …?” Bolin rolled his eyes. “Oh, right. Of course. The Batman villain. Hilaaaarious.”

“Is she a villain though?” Asami asked.

“Er … Yeah!” Bolin said.

“But she’s trying to save the world!” Asami said vehemently. “Aren’t villains kind of by definition motivated by selfish or downright evil reasons?”

Bolin shrugged. “I think it’s their methods rather than …” Asami wasn’t listening.

“It’s just her anger and misanthropy that gets in the way of her becoming a hero,” she said. “Like, y’know how sometimes Batman’s in danger of crossing the line from hero to something darker? Ivy’s story is about how she’s close to crossing from being something darker to becoming a hero but never quite getting close enough.”

“You’re so hot when you overanalyse comic book characters,” Korra laughed, giving her a squeeze.

“No, I’m always hot.”

“True. I kinda want to beat you up and shove you in a locker though.”

“I’d like to see you try, you glass-boned bastard.”

Bolin muttered something into his coffee and headed for the bathroom. “I gotta vomit. Because you’re sickening. Also poop, but that’s because of the coffee.”

“Bolin!” Kya shouted from a table near the window. “Where’s my idiot brother?”

Bolin shrugged and went into the bathroom, still mumbling something about useless nerdy lesbians.

“Did he just call us lesbians?” Korra asked, scowling at the bathroom door as if her gaze could burn through wood.

Asami shrugged. “It’s not really an insult.”

“No, I know. But it felt like he was using it as one. Especially as he knows we’re both straight.”

Asami made a vague “Mmm-Hmm” sound and tucked a strand of hair behind her hair.

“Wow,” Mako sighed, fiddling with the register. “The amount of … of fucking self-delusion right now … is … well, it’s ridiculous.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Asami snapped, throwing a spoon at him.

Swearing like a constipated sailor, Mako fled to the storeroom.

Korra ran a hand absentmindedly through Asami’s hair. “I don’t think he has the energy for that. He’s been hit by a hang over five or six years in the making. I would too if it weren’t for the painkillers.”

Asami laughed. “That’s why I’ve been having this,” she said reaching for the paper coffee cup she’d been taking sips from. She turned around, placed her hands on Korra’s hips, and watched as she tentatively lifted the cup to her mouth.

“Coffee?”

“Not quite. Have a taste.”

Korra took a sip. Before the brandy burnt its way down her throat, she could taste Asami’s lipstick on the plastic lid.

“What flavour is that lipstick? It tastes like … like strawberries?”

“I … uh … I’m not sure. I was kind of thinking you’d be more interested in the Baileys Coffee Liqueur but …”

“No, no, it’s a great idea! Wish I’d thought of it. But seriously, your lipstick is just so …”

“You …” Asami whispered, leaning forwards slightly, “… you can have a proper taste … if you want …”

“Nah,” Korra took another sip. “I ate a stick of my mum’s lipstick when I was five and my poop was Forbidden Fuscia for a week.”

“No, I meant …” Asami leant even closer and her lips were just a breath away from Korra’s, “… you can taste it …” Asami trailed off and tapped a finger to her lips.

“Oh! … I …” Korra felt her pulse soar and her cheeks burn. Her mouth was dry and she swallowed, licking her lips unconsciously. “You … you mean …?”

“If you want …” Asami shrugged slightly. “I … I don’t mind …”

“Just to … I’m sure it’s strawberries. It’s … it’s not gay if … if …”

Asami shrugged again. “Totally not gay.”

Korra realised a little taken aback, that she didn’t really care if it was gay or not. Though it was reassuring to know that it most certainly was not gay.

“Just one taste,” she said, trying and failing to swallow the nervous giggles that were bubbling up.

Just as their lips were about to touch, there was an awkward cough from behind Korra and she squealed, lurched forwards, and head-butted Asami in the nose.

“Ah! Shit!” Asami yelped, collapsing to the floor, blood bursting out of her nose.

Korra yelled, “Oh my god!”

Wing or Ling or Wink yelled, “Oh my god!”

Hands clamped over bleeding nose and rolling on the floor like an overturned turtle, Asami yelled “Aw mah gah!”

Panicking, Korra kicked herself off the counter, almost shattering her already shattered legs, spun around, and slapped Wing or Link or Wink in the face.

“What do you want?!” she yelled at him, tears creeping into her eyes.

“I … I … oh my god!”

“Look what you did, you hipster trash!” Korra yelled, kneeling down as best she could with the plaster-encased leg and cradled Asami’s head to her chest. “Did you want more soy?! Did you do this all for the soy?! I hope it was worth it! You’ve ruined her perfect face, you beautifully toned monster!”

Stuttering and sweating, he threw a piece of paper at Korra and managed to whimper, “I … I wanted to give this to … my … my phone number!” before running out of the shop.

Korra was stunned for a few seconds, staring in disbelief at the crumpled paper fluttering down through the air. Asami groaned and swore as Korra let go of her and her head hit the floor. Korra snatched at the paper like she were trying to catch a moth.

Korra wobbled to her feet and unfolded the paper, visibly shaking with excitement.

Asami clambered to her feet, touching her nose tentatively, looking at the blood on her fingers in confusion.

“I can’t believe it!” Korra gasped.

“I know! I think you broke my…”

Korra didn’t hear her. “I got a guy’s number!” She punched the air excitedly and yelled triumphantly, “I am the sex!”

“Asami, your nose is bleeding,” Bolin said, coming out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his apron.

“ _Your_ nose is bleeding!” Asami snapped. “I’m sorry, could someone get me some tissues please.”

“I got a guy’s number!” Korra shouted to the entire world. Two customers picked up their Macs and left the café, mumbling under their breath and glaring at her.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Bolin said, scratching his chin.

“Seriously, I’m starting to feel lightheaded,” Asami said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Korra snarled at Bolin.

“Look at you!”

“Look at me?!”

“You dress like a drunk frat boy and you’re covered in hideous tattoos and you never shower!”

“I showered this morning!”

“You’re fucking high on morphine! What did he look like, this mysterious ‘number-giving guy’?”

“Guys, I’m losing a lot of blood here,” Asami mumbled.

“He had a green tank top and …”

“Really great arms with piercing green eyes?” Bolin asked, folding his arms across his chest cockily.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Asami groaned, rushing to the sink.

“How did you know?”

“He was making bedroom eyes at me while I was making his coffee!”

“But … he winked at me!”

“He winked at me!”

Korra growled and scrunched the paper up in her fist.

“Guys …” Asami whimpered.

“Give me sexy tank top guy’s number!” Bolin snarled, squaring up to Korra so that their puffed out chests touched.

Korra bared her teeth. “You’re not gonna call him! You don’t even like guys!”

“Did you see his collarbones?!” Bolin hissed. “That’s enough to make any ostensibly straight man question everything! Give me his number and tend to your woman!”

“ _You’re_ a … tender woman,” Korra grumbled, failing utterly at coming up with a witty rebuttal.

Defeated, Korra thrust the paper into Bolin’s hand and hobbled to Asami’s side, steadying her as she swooned.

Twenty-two paper napkins, half a coffee cup of Baileys, and a fistful of ice later, Korra pulled Asami into the wheelchair and pushed her over to a table near the window where the weak sunlight trickled into the café.

“Sorry I broke your nose,” Korra said after they’d been sitting by the window for a while, fiddling with a bloody napkin.

“S’okay.” Asami grinned crookedly and clenched a fist. “I get a free shot later.”

Korra smiled. “Deal.”

“It’ll come when you least expect it.”

“I await your surprise fisting with great anticipation.”

They smiled at each other in silence for several minutes, just happy to be with each other. The silence was broken by Mako slapping a huge wad of money down on the table.

“Feast your eyes on that, bitches! I’m sorry I said that, I’m just excited.”

“How’d you get this?!” Asami said, flicking through the stack of notes. “There must be two-hundred Yuans here!”

“Two-hundred and thirty,” Mako said, smugly. “You know those huge boxes full of styrofoam peanut things in the backroom?”

“Yeah,” Korra said.

“I just sold them all! I told some hipster guy that they were Fairtrade and organic and whatever and he bought them all!”

“Holy shit,” Asami whispered. “Why are hipsters so dumb?”

Mako took off his apron and sat down at the table. “We have close on three-hundred Yuans now. A few more days of this and we’ll have enough to repair the bar.”

“I, uh, I need like a hundred Yuans,” Korra said.

Mako groaned. “We agreed we’d put all the money into the bar.”

Asami folded her blood-stained hands on the table top and chewed her lip. “I could do with some cash too. I spent more than I should have on, er …”

“’How To Convince Your Friends You’re Straight’, a self-help book for people called Asami who want to bang their best friend?” Bolin suggested, joining them at the table.

Asami narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s not a real book,” she said.

“You’d know,” Bolin said, grinning.

“No, if you must know, I had to pay for all that lingerie I wore, burnt, masturbated in, and made otherwise unsellable. Turns out there was more than I thought and I’m kinda broke right now.”

Korra felt her cheeks burning and chewed a thumbnail.

“Do you think these hipsters would want to buy your scorched and soiled underwear?” Mako asked.

“Korra would!” Kya laughed from the other side of the café.

“Fuck off Kya!” the four of them muttered.

“She totally would though,” Bolin said.

“Oh yeah, totally,” Mako agreed.

“I would not!” Korra huffed. “But … just … out of curiosity, how much would you sell the lacey purple thing for?”

“I have boxes of the stuff in my living room!” Asami laughed. “You can have my underwear for free!”

“No she can’t,” Mako said. “We’re selling it all to dirty hipsters and the money’s going towards fixing the bar.”

“I’ll let you steal some,” Asami whispered to Korra, winking.

“What about me?”

“You too, Bo.”

“Cool.”

“I feel bad stealing your undies,” Korra said. “I’ll give you a foot rub for them.”

“Alright,” Asami said, grinning and thrusting her foot into Korra’s lap.

Bolin and Mako groaned loudly as Korra unlaced Asami’s trainers.

“What?”

“Come on,” Bolin sighed. “There’s no such thing as a platonic massage. Just fucking fuck each other’s vagina holes already!”

“Dude, he’s right,” Mako said, shaking his head disappointedly.

“We promised not to start the Mia Wallace debate again,” Asami growled.

“Mia who?” Korra asked, kneading Asami’s toes.

“From Pulp Fiction.” Bolin made a face. “How do you not know that?”

“I don’t like Pulp Fiction.”

Everyone in the café gasped, horrified.

“What?” Asami murmured. Korra’s desirability plummeted.

“It’s a terrible film,” Korra said, firmly. “Nothing happens. A bunch of awful people bicker for two hours and then … then it just sorta … ends.”


End file.
